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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089471">Paladin’s Bubble</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasskarian/pseuds/Sasskarian'>Sasskarian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wasteland, Baby (I’m in Love With You) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:07:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasskarian/pseuds/Sasskarian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The hand on his rifle fidgets, an uncharacteristic tell for the always-in-control soldier. There’s been several of those, these last few weeks.</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor (Fallout)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wasteland, Baby (I’m in Love With You) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paladin’s Bubble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This might go on to be part 2, eventually. I have a Mama Murphy piece that's in beta right now that I'd really like to be the opening chapter. But, writers can be fickle, and I might change my mind. XD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Fallout 4 | Paladin Danse</b>
</p><p>***</p><p>The Commonwealth is quiet tonight. <b><br/></b></p><p>It’s not silent, by any stretch: Evie can hear the hounds in the distance, their mutated throats sending their boofs echoing through the streets of Boston even from a long distance, and somewhere— a mile or more— the whoop of a raiding party rises over the station’s lookout, too far away to do anything but pity the poor prey they’ve caught. Dogmeat grunts, his paws pushing against her armored thigh as he stretches. His ears are perked, though, so he’s just catching some rest while he can. Even the thwomp-and-hiss of her partner’s power armor is missing from the darkness, the red light of his scope the only thing highlighting his face in their little bubble of quiet.</p><p>Six months since her Vault opened. Six months she’s been here in the wastelands of what was once home. She grew up here, got her law degree at the university that’s nothing but rubble and worse; peeled off crab legs and laughed with her family under the Barking Crab’s colorful tent down on Sleeper Street. The other day, while green lightning forked overhead and the Prydwen bobbed in the drafts rolling off the Atlantic, she’d seen the panhandle shape of the East Boston Memorial Park, where she and Nate had had their first date, and later, their wedding. How strange that had felt, six months and several lifetimes away.</p><p>Dogmeat whines softly as her mood shifts, rolling until he sprawls belly up halfway between her and Danse. Four months ago, when she stumbled bleeding into the police station and half-collapsed at Danse’s feet, she’d never have heard the quiet chuff of amusement, or the whisper-quiet ruffle of fur as his gloves scritched the dog’s belly. But tonight, it warms her, something welcome and pure in this nightmare of a world. </p><p>“You astound me,” Danse says quietly. From the lack of sass by Rhys— Knight Rhys, her mind auto-corrects, mimicking the salty tone perfectly— Evie guesses his comms are off, and silences her own. After a quick fiddle with her Pip, Diamond City Radio also goes down until it’s nothing but a pleasant buzz in her ear. </p><p>“I mean, he is a very good dog,” she teases, smiling when her shameless companion wiggles, a foot scratching as she finds That One Itchy Spot with her gloveless nails. “<em>Quite </em>astounding, really.”</p><p>Danse snorts softly. She can only see a sliver of his face, sitting as they were: him facing the west, rifle ready and primed, and her facing east, face full of the briny Atlantic breezes. But even that sliver is enough to show his small smile, the crinkles next to his eyes shadowed as they wink into existence. “He is,” Danse says. “But I wasn’t referring to him.”</p><p>The hand on his rifle fidgets, an uncharacteristic tell for the always in control soldier. There’s been several of those, these last few weeks.</p><p>“Is that so?” Evie asks, turning to face him. Her fingers find Dogmeat’s ears, playing with the silky fur as she waits. She’s always been good at that: waiting someone out, giving them just enough rope to swing on. Patience cuts through a lot of bluster, and there aren’t many in this new world or from before the war that could out-awkward or out-stubborn her. She had, after all, been a damn good lawyer once upon a time.</p><p>Danse is silent, sighting a shadow on the ground to keep from looking at her. The red washes over his face, highlighting the scar through his eyebrow and Evie tucks her arms around one knee to keep from doing anything stupid. This isn’t the first time Danse has said something startling; confessions are easier said in the dark, and despite the stoneface he presents to the Brotherhood, Danse seems to have a lot of confessions. Evie doesn’t mind: it’s nice to feel connected to someone out here.</p><p>Finally, he sets the rifle back down, the breeze playing with the tips of his black hair. “You’ve got to be the most resilient person I’ve ever met,” he says. His voice is so quiet, even the distant warble of star radiation shining down on them is almost louder, but Evie still hears him. “You slept as the world changed, had your son stolen from you, your husband killed in front of you. Woke up in an entirely different lifetime, and yet, here you are, boots on the ground and just… adapting.” He shifts, his armor hissing. “How?”</p><p>Nate’s face swims up in her memory— his brown eyes, the curl to his hair when he stepped out of the shower. How his megawatt smile lit up when Shaun came red-faced and howling into the world. With a pang that has only started to soften, she nudges it away. Nate’s ghost will always be with her, reminders of him in every step she takes, but it’s getting easier to breathe without him. Easier to see him as something to fight for, to keep her going. He pushes her on, when all she wants to do is lie down and stop getting back up. </p><p>“I don’t have a choice.” Evie is just as quiet, her head dropping to her knee. Her armor doesn’t hiss as she moves, and she thinks half-heartedly about offering to check his hydraulic hoses before acknowledging the distraction for what it is: stalling. “Shaun is out there somewhere. He’s the only piece of normal I have left.” When she looks up, Danse is staring at her, eyes dark and wide— brown and sweet, like Nate’s. “He’s the only piece of Nate I have left.”</p><p>Slowly, so hesitant she almost expects his neck to creak like an unoiled hinge, Danse nods and turns back to his post, content with that answer. And maybe it’s her imagination, but his arm slides over until his vambrace rests against her leg. Something in her heart rolls over— not awake. Pain is still a fresh-faced, wide-eyed companion. But maybe a few <em>maybes </em>have been sung along in her heart with the radio, and she turns the DCR channel back up, thoughtful.</p><p>The rest of the shift is uneventful, with nothing but the stars smiling down on them and that quiet clink of wrist to ankle and heart to heart.</p>
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